


(distortion);

by kandyrezi



Category: Strange Men (Video Games), The Hanged Man (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandyrezi/pseuds/kandyrezi
Summary: if only nightmares would have been the sole problem he had to deal with; he hoped he wouldn’t ever have to tell you of all the other bad things outside of those dreams.





	(distortion);

**A looming figure** stood perfectly still in the distance, presence daunting and tall, bending their fingers until it enclosed into a fist. The only visible light shining over them from a small squared window in the otherwise bleak room, showing off their cerulean irises, shining a bit too brightly against the darkness, keeping their true intentions concealed, if only for a second. Droplets of echoing water leaked from the ceiling, slowly beginning to rot from the inside out, cracks forming on the beige walls, with dust coating around them.

He recognized this scenario, over and _over again_ , by how much he’d find himself back there, it was nearly identical to all the other times, even the setting, which he normally found difficult to concentrate on, too focused on the events that were to happen. Light reflected the emotionally distressed features of the person laying on the floor, like a frightened, cornered mouse who’d been frozen on the spot, staring back at the figure partially merged with the dim silhouette above them.

When the person above had pushed them exactly where they wanted them to be, there was no wasting time coming through the doorway as the hinges creaked slightly, _too close_ , their steps blocking out any other ambient humming sounds of the run-down building, reflecting their own rapidly increasing heartbeat before it dulled to the other, louder noise.

The first hit that followed across the face left them pulling their head back in a state of temporary shock after it fully registered, the world momentarily spinning under half-lidded eyes. The ones that then came next were easier to deal with, becoming familiarized with the pain often helped numb it out, focusing on the moment when it would end. The punches and kicks were hard enough to leave temporary, lasting marks, but not enough to force the victim to pass out. To make sure they felt _every_ blow, otherwise that would be escaping the punishment.

Except this time, he realized, it had been _**him**_ who was the looming figure with bloodied knuckles and teeth gritting in rage, murmuring more hateful words under his breath with eyes full of disdain.

Laying on the ground, red bruises forming on the neck alongside on other hidden places, slowly transforming into ash, a gash on the arm with blood trickling down all across the delicate skin. Glazed eyes stared back at him half-lidded from where they lay, struggling to keep them open this time around. Words form from the victim’s mouth, confusion or a plea, he couldn’t tell, couldn’t hear, _didn’t care_ , because the next thing Edward was aware of, he raised his fist one more time, bringing it down onto _you_ with as much strength as he could muster.

_A sickening crack, howling, and then… **nothing**._

\--and he jolted awake, gasping for air, grasping the sheets beneath him. Heart hammering rapidly in his chest and loudly in his ears. It was the only thing he could hear, no inexplicable footsteps across the carpet, only silence hummed back at him this time. Hands shaking relentlessly as he drew in sharp, quick breaths, trying desperately to shake off any fragments of memory which caused him distress in that moment. Sweat clung to his forehead as he grazed at his scalp with his fingernails, harshly tugging at his blond hair, to the point he almost ripped a few strands out.

“...Ed?”

Glancing at the person laying next to him - staring up at him with a sleepy, confused look - from underneath the covers which you’d pulled up to your shoulders.

Letting the temporary warmth slip from your skin, you sat up to get a closer look at him, which left you frowning once you figured out what had occurred. You reminded yourself – _frail, tread softly._

His bad dreams would happen very randomly whenever the two of you would end up falling asleep together, different time of the night every time. It took time for him to trust you enough to agree to sleep in the same bed as you, you definitely didn’t expect that it would involve you having to console him that _everything was alright_ , that there would be no one on the other side of the door waiting for him, angrily shouting at him for any fruitless reason that hadn’t even been his fault to begin with.

You didn’t have to do any of it, you knew that. But you felt slightly honored that, despite his poor self-image, he seemed to want to stay with you. He was still a little closed off, but seemed to be getting better, at least relatively more-so than when you’d met him for the first time. He tended to avoid speaking of his nightmares, the _real_ core source of them. Even though you might’ve suspected the reason, you chose not to pry.

“Bad dream?” you asked for confirmation anyway.

He nodded a quiet, ‘ _yeah_ ’, almost immediately, eyes gandering downwards and refusing to meet your gaze.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” he paused, mouth dry and mind _**disoriented,**_ trying to remember if there even was anything worth talking about – only the image of _you_ sprawled on the floor writhing in pain flashed through his head, too recognizable for his discomfort. He had always been the victim of his own nightmares, but he had seen someone else that time around, someone who didn’t deserve any of that. He had been the aggressor, without any regard or remorse. It was shameful, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about that… he wondered if it would made you look at him any differently.

“N-Not really...”

He swallowed, throat tightening, forming a painful lump he tried to ignore. He felt like too much of a coward to find out. At least, he didn’t want to do it tonight. If it came to it, maybe he would tell you of his worries if it happened again, but by _g_ _od,_ did he hope it wouldn’t. He thought it best to simply bury them at the back of his head and go back to being the scapegoat, so he wouldn’t have to endure watching you be the victim in the darkest pits of his mind, only being a matter of time until it would become reality.

You gently grazed your knuckles across his cheek, taking notice that he didn’t flinch at the unprompted touch. It might’ve been due to the sleep-deprived or fatigued state, which had left him in shock.

With a quiet breath, Edward exhaled calmly this time, tilting his head slightly to finally look at you, albeit a bit timidly.

“...I-I’m g-glad you’re okay. I’m really s-sorry that I k-keep waking you up like this.”

You removed your fingers from his face and gently let them lay on his closed fist still grasping the sheets. His grip loosened ever so slightly and allowed himself to relax, as much as he could gather himself to, anyway.

“Don’t worry about… hopefully it’ll get better with time, alright?” you murmured softly in response.

As he focused on the darkness in front of him, figuring it must’ve still been early in the morning, the sun hadn’t yet begun to rise. The distant streetlamp providing as weak source of dim light that would occasionally flicker on and off. The _delicate_ snowflakes falling outside stuck to the window resting above the two of you, forming seamless patterns.

“Are you able to go back to sleep?” you asked.

“I’ll try.” he responded quietly, resting his head back on the pillows, with the covers to shield him from the frigidity of early winter.

He wasn’t too keen on the idea of sharing a bed anymore, being this _close_ to you, when the threat you laying there near beaten to death loomed over his head. His thoughts became more conflicted when you intertwined your fingers with his own and inched a little closer than before, not bothered by his burdens, rather you would bear them as if they were yours as well.

If only nightmares would have been the sole problem he had to deal with; he hoped he wouldn’t ever have to tell you of all the other bad things outside of those dreams.

He hoped for his credulous delusions to last for just a little while longer.


End file.
